


Happens To The Best Of Us

by AquamarineSock



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bed-Wetting, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, POV Ferdinand von Aegir, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Shame, well... it's not NOT hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:00:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24582694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AquamarineSock/pseuds/AquamarineSock
Summary: Ferdinand wets the bed, and Byleth helps.For the kinkmeme prompt: Ferdinand had ongoing issues with wetting the bed when he was a kid, which he was very sensitive and ashamed about, but he’s an adult now and has definitely outgrown such things! ...except every so often when he’s very tired or stressed or upset. Which he happens to be on this particular night when he’s sharing a bed with his partner who has no idea about this little problem he sometimes has.I’m just looking for a very embarrassed and vulnerable Ferdie getting comforted and reassured by his partner.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme





	Happens To The Best Of Us

Ferdinand woke feeling wet and warm. It took him a moment to process it, what that meant, why that wasn’t how one normally woke up, that the wetness was coming from him— _Oh no._

He sprung up from the bed. He had thought he had grown out of this, finally, after years of being convinced he was finally grown up enough, and each incident of acute embarrassment getting spread further and further apart. But apparently not. He had not outgrown the confines of that immature pathology, and it was seeming less and less likely, as he got older and older and outgrowing things became less and less applicable—

To make it worse, there was someone else in his bed. Beautiful, wonderful Byleth, who’s concept of courtship was strange and foreign to him, who cared not one jot for propriety and suggested things like sleeping in the same bed to see if it would help them rest better.

He had agreed. Partially because this war had left him exhausted but made it difficult to fall asleep, and he would be willing to make the experiment, even if the nobility at large would never believe that they had only slept. And because he did not think this would happen. It had been a over year since the last time, and he had held a quiet, internal celebration when that anniversary past. It had been long enough that it honestly slipped his mind that this could happen.

And now it had happened with Byleth in the same bed. Where she would notice. Where he had managed to dirty her. She would notice, and judge him, and she would be right to, because it was childish and disgusting—

Byleth stirred in her sleep.

He tried to pull the sheets off the bed. Half in a panicked attempt to hide the evidence, and in attempt to stop her from being soiled any further. Except it didn’t work, because Byleth was still on top of them, so he was more trying to steal the sheets and dragging her towards him.

She awoke, blinking, her face flashing for a moment to disgust before settling to her usual flatness. She looked up at him.

He let go of the sheets. He wanted to close his eyes, escape her judgment, but that would be a cowardly and dishonourable thing to do. He returned her gaze, and tried his best not to cringe back from it. “I apologise deeply, my lady, I should not have—” He couldn’t finish his sentence. Couldn’t think of what he honestly should not have done, because this was an accident, but never the less, he should have been able to predict it—

“It’s okay,” she said, cutting him off. Her judgment was not... much of a judgment. There was no disgust, and maybe only a dash of pity, but Ferdinand found her hard to read at the best of times. “It happens to the best of us.”

“I would not wish to disagree with you, but I highly doubt that.”

She stood up from the bed, and shrugged. “Well, if not this specifically, other things happen.” She started stripping off the sheets with more success. “At least you didn’t startle in your sleep and try and stab someone.”

“Someone tried to stab you in your sleep?” 

She didn’t answer, just efficiently piled the sheets in a corner, and started rummaging through the drawers for more sheets, and towels to dry the mattress.

He did his best to help her make the bed again, but his efforts were more fumbling than usual, and she was quietly determined to do it herself without need of his help. It was one of the nice things about Byleth: her relentless practicality. To her, the sum of the problem was just that their bedding was now dirty, and it could be solved by cleaning and changing it as necessary. She could have gone on and on about how this wasn’t anything to worry about, and he—well, he would admit he wouldn’t have believed her, even if he should, considering she was his general and her brilliance compared to his. But this breezy practical showed him how she felt, that she really was not that bothered, and that fixing this was worth it.

She stood back from the bed, hands on her hips, admiring her domestic handiwork for a moment, before rummaging back through the drawers again. She handed him a neatly folded set of spare pyjamas. These were a bit more threadbare, at risk of ripping if they were worn for much longer, but they were clean, and they would do for a night. “Thank you, it is much appreciated,” he said quietly.

She nodded, grabbed herself a spare night gown, and set about—oh my. Immediately changing herself, apparently.

Ferdinand turned sharply away from her. It would be too intimate to gaze upon her, or even see her out of the corner of his eye, when she was undressing. Even if what had just happened was, objectively, fairly intimate. He stripped off his damp clothes, that was slowly going cold, feeling another jolt of embarrassment. At being naked, at being forced to interact with what just happened, he wasn’t quite sure which. He dropped them in the pile of sheets—and he was certainly either going to have to force his way into laundry duty tomorrow, or else find a way to subtly but profusely thank whoever was on it. He changed to into the new pyjamas, the fabric warm and dry and oddly comforting.

Byleth dropped her dirty pyjamas into the alarmingly large pile, and walked up behind him.

She wrapped her arms around his waist in a hug. There was—there was a lot of love in that hug. He could feel it, even if he could not articulate it.

He placed an arm over her own, holding her closer. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you,” because it beared repeating, and even the amount of times he had said it did not come close to being enough.

“Let’s go back to bed,” she murmured into his shoulder, as she led him back to bed.

They lay down, and she stayed close, kept her arm around his waist. “It’s okay. It really is.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this!
> 
> There _shouldn't_ be any typos, but if there are, please let me know.


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